


Collision

by MidnightValkyrie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26608090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightValkyrie/pseuds/MidnightValkyrie
Summary: You can only swerve so many times before you finally collide.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 127
Collections: Trope Mashup Comp





	Collision

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Trope_Mashup_Flash_Fic_Comp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Trope_Mashup_Flash_Fic_Comp) collection. 



> Written for the Trope Mashup Flash Fiction Comp hosted by QuinTalon in Dumbledore’s Armada Discord. My chosen prompt was Marriage Law + Fluff. Many thanks to my alpha/beta, who will remain anonymous until reveals.

Hermione sipped her tea as she considered the wizard sitting across from her. To anyone else, he would’ve seemed relaxed and at ease. Sixth Year had taught her differently, however.

The rigidity that had crept into his shoulders and the way he forced his fingers not to tremble by the way of squeezing his cup and saucer just so, were indicative of the stress swirling just beneath the surface. Draco Malfoy was nervous in a way she’d never seen before.

If she hadn’t been pulled aside by Harry that morning on her way to her apprenticeship, she would’ve assumed Draco was upset, even angry, over the letters they’d both received the previous day and wanted to discuss the matter. Instead, what Harry had told her provided an entirely different context to Malfoy’s behavior and allowed her to see his actions for what they were.

She’d planned to ask him a number of things, but when she opened her mouth something entirely different came out. It was the last thing she’d meant to say, but the thought had been scratching at the back of her mind all day tumbled from her lips. 

“I heard you asked for me.”

He barely kept from choking on his tea and set down the cup and saucer with a click. His hands dropped to his lap beneath the table as the corners of his mouth pulled down. He didn’t bother asking who, but just sighed with a frown. “I suppose it’d be too much to ask for Potter to mind his own business, for once in his bloody life.”

“So it’s true.” She watched the way he stared out the window as he settled himself into Occlumency; likely to gain control of his emotions. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done the same in the past.

“And if it is? Are you going to reject me because of it.” It was rhetorical the way he phrased it. Flat, as if it were a statement that he fully expected her to agree to.

“I never said that.” She gently set her cup and saucer back on the smooth, polished table.

“You still have two other suitors to consider, after all.” 

It didn’t make sense for him to be pointing her towards viable escape hatches. Her brow furrowed. “As do you.” 

A blond brow hitched as if asking her what her point was. She supposed it was safe to assume he hadn’t asked for  _ them _ .

Ever since she’d opened the letters— one to announce the suitors and the other an invitation for tea— a compulsion to explore this avenue had been born. She couldn’t say why, because they’d always hated one another, but perhaps that was part of the answer.

The recent Marriage Law had granted each person three possible matches. Wizards could ask for a specific partner or leave it up to chance and allow the chips to fall where they may. The Ministry filled any slot left empty on a Wizard’s card, just in case the requested witch declined. Witches weren’t granted the same privileges, however, and were relegated to nervously hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

“May I ask who?” He settled back into his chair, lacing his fingers together.

“I’ll tell if you will.” It’d be a lie to say she wasn’t curious and time with Daphne had taught her never to make uneven deals.

“Lisa Turpin and Cho Chang.” He said their names after two heartbeats of consideration.

She licked her dry lips. “George Weasley and Theodore Nott.”

A quiet sardonic chuckle puffed from him as he studied her. “I suppose I should let you be on your way.”

Her brows crinkled. “Why bother asking for me if you’re just going to give up before you’ve even begun.” Why invite her to his lavish flat for tea if he wasn’t planning on fighting for her? She froze at the thought, blinking in surprise at herself. Did she want him to?

“It’s hardly a competition, Granger. It’s as if you were destined to become a Weasley. Failing that, Nott admired you in our later Hogwarts years. Why would you even give me a second glance in comparison? It’s not as if I haven’t been burning every bridge since Second Year.”

Why indeed? It wasn’t as if he’d ever given her a reason to. Something nagged at her though. It hadn’t been George or Nott on her mind since the day before, but Malfoy. She’d heard rumors of how he’d changed and seen many articles about him in the paper. Her curiosity had never burned so hotly. Somehow she knew she’d regret it forever if she didn’t give herself a chance to find out who he was now. 

“I’d be foolish not to consider all my options. Magical marriage of this sort isn’t temporary, after all.”

He stared, as if she’d spoken a different language and he was having a hard time translating. Then he swallowed hard and stood, circling around to her side and extending a hand. “If I may?”

She placed her palm in his, noting how large and warm it was as he wrapped his fingers around hers and led her down a hallway. Afraid is what she should have been seeing as they were alone here with nobody else knowing where she was or what she was doing. He could have cursed her, Imperiused her, or any number of things, yet the pounding of her heart was in anticipation.

His office was full of books and antiques, but what immediately captured her attention was the painting above his fireplace.  _ Ophelia _ had been her mother’s favorite of Millais’ works and it felt bizarre seeing it here, of all places. 

She hadn’t realized he’d stepped away until he touched her arm and she jumped, then laughed at herself. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect to see Muggle art here and it caught me off guard. My mother loved this painting.” She gestured towards it as she turned to give him her full attention.

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he studied her for a moment and then took her hand. “Is it so hard to believe that I’d be fascinated by a whole world of things once I realized that I didn’t have to be afraid of them?” His voice was so low she’d have strained to hear it had it not been near silent.

“No, I suppose not,” she whispered.

“I’d like to give you something.” 

She nodded and without breaking her gaze, he slipped something around her wrist and fastened it. The clasp disappeared as the metal warmed against her skin. She eventually pulled her wrist up to examine the gift and blinked. Her breath hitched as she stared at the gray sapphires set in platinum. 

Her first thought was that it was too much, but something told her that giving it back would signify a rejection she wasn’t ready to give.

“A token of my affection, to keep me on your mind in the coming year.” He stepped further into her space and traced his thumbs along her jaw before leaning down. He paused for a moment just before making contact, giving her a chance to back away, and then pressed his mouth to hers when she remained. 

War could have erupted, the world could have ended, and she’d never have known. 

When he drifted back sometime later, she opened her eyes and stared in wonder. Draco Malfoy had swerved into and out of her life for over a decade, but nothing could have prepared her for the inevitable collision.


End file.
